


Trust Me

by Jackidy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angel/Demon AU, DVA universe, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy/pseuds/Jackidy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wellesley Raleigh would like to think he lived a normal life, that is until some madman in a Porsche ran him over and proceeded to tell him to marry him because he was the king of hell. Because apparently nothing said I love you like being run over by a stolen Porsche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man in the Porsche

**Author's Note:**

> Australia - James Cook  
> New Zealand - Wellesley Raleigh
> 
> Already uploaded on tumblr and completed, I figured I would bring this over here whilst I worked on the fics that follow.

It’s cold for Autumn, Wellesley thinks as he takes a moment to pause, wiggling the fingers on his hand to get the blood moving again before picking his weeks’ worth of shopping up again and starting the long walk back to the flat he was renting. Call him morbid but he silently prayed a car would hit him so he wouldn’t have to write that 5000 word essay due in next Monday.

What kind of lecturer set an essay on their 2nd week into the new school year? 

He swears the urge to punch Professor Harrison was just growing at a faster rate than ever.

Nearly there now, Wellesley staring at the red man and willing it to go green already so he could go home, or back to his student flat, make one of the many packets of instant noodles in the carrier bag and then start his work. If he could get 1000 words done today, he’d be happy.

More than happy really.

The Pelican crossing is the last road to cross before he’s home, stepping out onto the road before turning as he heard the roar of an engine and freezing as he saw the Porsche heading for him. It was going to swerve, it was just some twat who was at his university and they were going to swerve.

But they didn’t, he just remembers a face, pain rippling up his body and everything going black.

–

Wellesley isn’t all together sure where he is or what day it is when he eventually wakes up, his limbs feeling heavier than usual as his vision slowly focuses and everything starts to become clearer. He’s…he’s in the hospital? He blinks in confusion, looking at the machines he was connected up to and he flowers on the bedside table, wondering why he was in the hospital to begin with, when he sees him sat in the corner of the room.

It all comes flooding back then. His shopping. The Road. That fucking Porsche and the wanker driving it.

“You…”

“Hi, I’m-”

“YOU’RE THE CUNT THAT RAN ME OVER!”

“No I’m not.”

“YES, YOU ARE. I’LL RING YOUR PISSING AUSTRALIAN NECK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

“Your blood pressure is rising, you should really calm down. You might injure yourself.”

“I’LL INJURE YOU IN A MINUTE!”

There’s a moment of silence when Wellesley is just breathing heavily as he seethes, his unknown assailant just sat grinning at him like the injured New Zealander hadn’t just threatened him.

“So, as I was saying before you interrupted.” He clears his throat, slouching on the chair and giving one of those lazy, supposedly attractive smiles as he looks directly at Wellesley. “Hi, I’m Satan, though you can call me James, how would you like to be my queen and rule hell with me?”

There’s just a moment of silence before Wellesley starts laughing, flopping back against his bed and ignoring the pain in his side as he continues howling with laughter at the Australian. “You…You ran me over…For…For that?!” He splutters out between laughing, wincing as the pain starts firing up worse than before. “That’s the worst pick up line ever, oh my god.”

He doesn’t notice the way James flinches at the mention of god or the sour look on his face.

“I’m being serious, I am Satan.”

“And I’m God.”

The air seems to get heavier and darker then, Wellesley panicking as the bed began to shake, no, the whole room seemed to, Wellesley looking at James who was no longer sat but walking over. Something was different; something was twisting and chilling about his appearance now and he has to suppress a whimper as the other leant over him.

“I already tried to kill you once, Wellesley Arthur Raleigh, and I can do it again. Now will you be my queen or not?”

He doesn’t ask how the other knew his full name, staring at the other, the orange eyes staring him down and he can’t help but laugh a little, looking away before looking back at him defiantly. “Go fuck yourself.”

James chuckles darkly, the machine monitoring his heart going into over drive as he leans in, thumb brushing the others lip. “I’ll make you change your mind, I have my ways~”

He’s gone then and it’s like nothing ever happened, the only evidence of the other being there being the slight smell of sulphur in the air and Wellesley’s increased heartbeat. Breathing in slowly, in an attempt to calm himself, he begins thinking over everything he’d just learnt.

He’d been run over by Satan as a proclamation of love.

Satan wanted to make him to be his queen.

Satan was Australian.

“I’m buying a crucifix as soon as I am out of this damn hospital.”

Or before, for that matter, you never can be too safe.


	2. The Break In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wellesley just stares at him then because he can’t honestly believe the other just asked that, crutch falling away from the others chest before pushing past him into the flat, prodding the demon out before shutting the door and locking it.

He sends another thankful look to his neighbour for carrying his food to the door, fumbling with his keys as he rested on his crutches before finally unlocking the door, resting against it for a moment and wondering how on earth he was going to carry the bags in.

Turning back to the bags he blinks bemused as they are gone, moving back into the hallway, looking for the person who had stolen his food shopping only to turn back and find James grinning at him, half eaten banana in hand. His grin only growing as the other screamed, Wellesley backing up into the hallway and pointing a crutch at him, jabbing the demon in the chest as he tried to think up something to say.

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY FLAT?! GET OUT!”

“Why are you always so violent to me, baby? I just wanna love you tender~”

“YOU RAN ME OVER WITH A FUCKING PORSCHE!!”

“How else was I supposed to tell you I love you?”

Wellesley just stares at him then because he can’t honestly believe the other just asked that, crutch falling away from the others chest before pushing past him into the flat, prodding the demon out before shutting the door and locking it. It hadn’t worked before but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work now, sighing and resting his head against the door, his muscles relaxing.

He’d only met the guy twice, not including James running him over, how the guy could possibly love him was beyond Wellesley.

“That was rude, Welly-boot.”

He’s there again, this time sat on the sofa, feet on the coffee table and the empty banana skin disintegrating into ash and a slither of smoke. Realising he wasn’t getting rid of him anytime soon, Wellesley moved into the kitchen, starting to unpack the shopping and mentally cursing the Australian for not at least asking to help him.

It takes him half an hour, maybe longer, to finish, hobbling into the living room of his one bedroom flat and just about collapsing onto the rolling desk chair and pulling himself to the other side of the coffee table and blocking the others view of TV.

“I thought I told you to leave.”

“I thought I asked you to become my Queen and wife. Also, you’re blocking the TV so just sit here,” He yelps as his crutches clatter to the ground, finding himself suddenly sat next to the demon and the office chair rolling itself back to the desk on its own, “and look pretty for me. Australia is playing South Africa, it’s an important game.”

“Please, it’s not like you’re playing the All Blacks, though the Spring bocks are gonna…hey, wait a minute don’t change the damn subject!” He pushed away from the other, scooting himself over to the arm and leaning against it only to groan in sheer annoyance as he was only pulled back. “Now I’m going to tell you what’s wrong with what you’re asking of me, so listen close and listen hard.”

“1) You don’t just ask people to be your queen, Satan or not. 2) You ran me over and broke into my flat, that’s just not part of a healthy relationship with anyone and lastly…” He let out a breath then, thinking of how to phrase this without the other taking it as an invitation. “3) You could have at least got to know me through less creepy methods before asking me, taken me on a date, bought me flowers. You’re old as balls, you’d think there would be at least 1 romantic bone in your body.”

“I’m not that old.”

“You’re Satan. Of course you are.” He ignores the somewhat hurt look on James’s face, focusing on the game on the TV, laughing as one of the Australian members was tackled.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

Wellesley pauses, not actually expecting the other to ask, blinking at him and wondering silently how to put his next words politely. “I’d rather skin and eat my neighbour.”

“That might not be the best idea, high cholesterol and a smoker. Wouldn’t be a tasty mouthful.”

“What?!”

“What?”

“Did you just tell me to eat my neighbour?”

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me.”

There’s a brief look of confusion on Wellesley’s face then, leaning back and away from James as if he’d just told him that he’d murdered his mother.

“I said I’d go on a date with you?”

“Excellent, I’ll pick you up when your legs better. Later darling.”

There’s a kiss on his cheek before the other is gone and everything sinks in. He’d just been tricked by James, no Satan, - Like hell he was referring to that bastard by his name – into going on a date with him.

Why hadn’t he bought that crucifix yet?

–

His nerves are shot, hands shaking as he sits in the coffee shop sipping tea because it’s going to happen any time now. He’s free of his crutches now, having handed them into the hospital some five days ago as he just waits, waits for him to just appear and do some crash gesture that makes him want to die from embarrassment.

Running a hand through his hair, Wellesley mentally tells himself that he isn’t going to arrive; he isn’t going to appear in the seat opposite him and he isn’t going to run him over with a mini cooper through the window of the damn building.

No…No, no, no. He’s just paranoid. He’s not coming, James is not coming. The demon has forgotten about him completely and he isn’t coming. Yes.

“Just relax, drink your tea, Wellesley, just relax and drink your tea.”

–

The welsh demon sighs as he walks into the office, carrying a new stack of papers for the King of Hell about new arrivals, placing them on the surprisingly clean desk and resting his hands on his hips as he gave James an unimpressed look. “Isn’t there something you should be doing, young man?”

James looks up then, hands stained from the ink he’d used to sign his signature on the pile of scrolls steadily growing around the desk of souls recently signed into servitude. “Aeron, please, I’ve got this all under control, everything is going according to plan~”

“And what is this master plan of yours, sir?” He’s not sure if he should even ask, the others plans’ having never been anything he would be excited to hear. More so as they normally needed refining into something that wouldn’t cause a massive scandal or destroy the citadel, never mind any other spot in hell.

James just looks like the cat that got the canary then, relaxing back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk –nearly knocking over the pile of new arrivals – as the Welsh demon set about collecting up the souls scattered about the floor, knowing full well if he didn’t do it nobody else will.

He’s honestly beginning to wonder if he’s actually the other’s secretary or not.

“I’m going to leave my little Wesley-”

“Wellesley, Sir, his name is Wellesley.”

“That’s what I said; I don’t pay you to interrupt me.” The funny thing was he didn’t even pay him, Aeron cocking a brow at the statement. “So, the plan is I just ignore my little darling for a while and then I go up and he’ll have missed me so much he just throws himself in my arms and proclaim his love to me and agrees to come down to hell with me and live by my side for eternity.”

There’s a twenty second silence before Aeron hits the so called king up the side of the head with the soul belonging to one Wang Yao, muttering under his breath as he glared at the young demon.

“You’re giving the kid a freaking heart attack and if he dies and you don’t realise some angel is going to pop him off to heaven, so get off your high horse and seduce your ‘woman’ or so help me I will kill you.”

Watching the other demon leave with a trolley filled with souls, James swallows thickly because he knows damn well that, even if he was already technically dead, his secretary would still try and kill him.


	3. Melbourne

Wellesley stirs as he feels something move on the mattress, hoping the cat from next door had just snuck in again, kicking at the thing only to get a sound of pain in response. That wasn’t a cat. That sounded nothing like a bloody cat. It sounded human.

He was being robbed.

First ‘Satan’ runs him over and now he was being robbed.

His mother was never going to let him out of her sight again, never mind let him leave New Zealand the next time he went home.

He jolts awake as he feels something, or should that be someone, touch his hair, arm instinctively moving and punching however it was in the face, the crack telling him he hit the assailants nose. “Welly-boot, what was that for?”

Oh God, he’s back.

“I only came to take you on a date like you told me to.”

Wellesley practically twitches at how pathetic he sounds when he whines, half tempted to agree just to get him to stop.

“It’s 5 am on a Saturday, where are you going to take me? McDonalds?”

“No, we’re going to Melbourne.”

“Melbourne is in Australia, this is England.”

“Are you telling me I can’t take you on a date to Melbourne?”

“No, I’m telling you you’re a delusional psychopath who thinks he’s Satan and ran me over with a vomit coloured Porsche.”

“So is that yes?” Wellesley has no idea how to respond to that, in all honesty. The Australian grinning at the lack of response from the other as he takes that as a definite yes. Wellesley will go on a date with him. “So, you ready to go?”

“It’s 5 am, I’m not going anywhere with you at 5-”

It’s weird. One minute he’s in bed glaring at the other and the next, the next minute there’s something pulling at his stomach before his cold bed and room is replaced with warm sand and blue skies, the sudden bright light making the kiwi wince. “-am…”

Sitting up slowly, he feels like he’s going to throw up for a moment or two, one hand on his stomach and the other over his mouth, glaring up at the king of hell before realising the other was in a suit. Fuck. He was serious about that date, wasn’t he in which case this meant he was in…

“We’re in Melbourne, aren’t we?”

“Yup”

“You actually listened and you’re taking me on a date? Where to?”

“You’ll see~”

—

He’s still not sure just were James had gotten the clothes from, only that he had a strange smug look on his face and it had that new feel without the tags to prove as much. But any questions about it are quickly forgotten as they stop in front of their destination.

“Pizza hut?”

Yeah, they didn’t have these when I was alive and I’ve never been to one.”

“You do know we have these in England, right?”

“Well yeah, but this is Australia, everything is better when Australian~”

“You kidnapped me at 5 am so you could take me to fucking pizza hut.”

He doesn’t care if he’s Satan, delusional or somewhat attractive in a badly worn suit, he’d going to exorcise the other the next chance he…wait…did he just refer to the other as somewhat attractive? Oh god, maybe whatever made the other think he was Satan was contagious.

—

He’s not sure if James is squirming under the heat of his glare or simply has an itch as they eat, Wellesley having been glaring at him from the moment the other had dragged him in like an excitable puppy. Why he’d been glaring so hard, Wellesley was unsure. Was it because his body was screaming garlic bread was a bad idea right now as it thought it was 5 am or was it because he was still having that inward dilemma of still finding the other somewhat attractive.

Either way, as far as he was concerned, it was far too early to be putting up with this.

He tries to think up something to say because, for some odd reason, he’s starting to feel guilty about glaring at the other. James was just taking his advice and taking him out on a date and, whilst a date on the other side of the world wasn’t expected, at least he was trying. “You know the pizza huts in England have garlic bread with bacon on them, right?”

“Seriously?!”

“Yeah, just think. You could have waited for 13 hours and taken me to one in England instead of here in Australia, think of the opportunity you missed out on.” He’s not going to admit that they have better sounding pizzas here, that would be a step too far but anything for him to at least have a date in a time zone he’s accustomed to. 

“Well that’s where we will go next time.”

“You assume we’ll go on another date? I’m only on this one because you kidnapped me half across the world.” Wellesley speaks dryly, giving the other a pointed look, adding to it by gesturing at Satan with a half-eaten crust. “And taking me on a date to the same place is cheap and tacky.”

James only gives Wellesley a baffled look, like he didn’t understand what the New Zealander was saying. Then again, Wellesley supposes the other wouldn’t understand the concept of it. James thought that running someone over with a Porsche was a good way to say I love you, so he can only imagine he’s expecting too much from the Australian.

“Of course you’ll go on a date with me, I’m Satan. You can’t afford to say no.”

If it wasn’t for the seriousness of what was being said, he’d have laughed at that. More so due to the look the waitress that handed them their drinks had given James.

“Bullying someone into dating you isn’t that romantic.” He sighed, stirring the glass of lemonade with the straw, looking to the exit to the left for some time before looking back to James. “I mean, did you forget what I told you to do or are you simply bad at listening to people?”

“I’m the king of hell; I don’t need to listen to anyone.” Wellesley isn’t sure just how some all-powerful being can make himself sound like a petulant five year old but James makes it all too easy, the kiwi rolling his eyes at the others behaviour.

“Is everyone aware you have the mentality of a five year old or is it just me?”

“Is everyone aware you’re a high maintenance midget or is it just me?”

There’s a five minute period of silence between the pair, James looking smug whilst Wellesley looked nothing short of murderous. “Now you’re being rude.”

“Then why don’t you get up and leave? Oh wait you can’t.”

Okay, maybe this guy was Satan after all.

The smug look parading the others face only seems to grow in size as the Kiwi inwardly struggles with himself over storming out in a city he doesn’t know with no way of getting back to England, ignoring James and hoping the other took him home after this or reaching over and pouring his drink on the other and walking out.

Sipping his drink and choosing the second of the above options, Wellesley continues to eat his meal, ignoring the other even as he decides a game of footsie would be a good idea to initiate. “Welly-boot, pay attention to me.” He sighs at the name because he’s beginning to think no matter how many times he corrects him, he won’t listen.

“My name is Wellesley and I will when you act your age.”

“Yeah but its boring acting my age, do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Old as balls would be my guess.”

“I’m 88, you cheeky little bastard.”

He actually pauses at that because wow, he’s much younger than he expected. Much, much younger. He’d assumed the other had just picked the single most annoying accent on the planet to annoy him but apparently not. Wellesley can only imagine the look on his mother’s face when he confirmed that Satan was in fact Australian.

“Oh…You’re old enough to be my granddad, you creepy pervert.” He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing at the look on James’s face, something that was an odd mixture of annoyance and bemusement. James seems to relax after that, realising the other was only joking about the whole age thing and looking relieved about it all.

Small talk seems to come easier after that, though Wellesley seems to be the main subject of conversation, James quickly moving the topic off of him and back onto his date quickly. He doesn’t think much of it really; he supposes the King of Hell would keep his secrets close but maybe he’d share more on the next date.

This one hadn’t been too bad after all.

Finished the last of his dessert, Wellesley yawns before looking at James who only blinks, looking round like he’d done something wrong and that something would just appear and tell him what it was. “So, how are we paying for all this? I have no money since you kidnapped me at 5am.”

“Oh, well…we pay like this~” He’s grinning at him. Why is he grinning at him? A sense of panic comes over Wellesley again as the other takes hold of the jacket he was wearing and that pulling in his stomach is there again and suddenly the warmth and bright daylight of Australia is replaced by a dingy, cold flat, the sun having barely risen in an overcast England.

“Now do I get a kiss?”

“I…What?”

“A kiss, I thought people kissed after dates when they took the other one home.”

He refrains from cooing, or laughing for that matter, at the other at how pathetic he sounds about it, shaking his head at the other. “It’s 7am, I’m going to bed and you’re going home.” Moving around the other, he starts pushing him towards the door, James not putting up a fight but complaining all the while, turning as he was out the door and pointing at his lips before Wellesley had chance to close the door.

“Please”

“No.”

His answer is short and sweet, just like the pained noise James makes as the door hits him in the nose, Wellesley letting out a snort of laughter before heading back to his bedroom. He had a lecture that afternoon and he wanted to get up in time for it. Because, frankly, ‘I was on a date with Satan’ is not a great excuse for missing a lecture.


	4. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are going to slow down after this one! not so much weekly but once evry 2/3 weeks, sorry =A=!
> 
> Preben - Denmark  
> Mei - Taiwan

The crucifix sits heavily on his chest, Wellesley nervously looking around in the university library, half expecting James to just turn up but he hadn’t appeared since he’d put the thing on. Since he’d started feeling guilty…no, why would he be guilty? The damn cross was like a holy restraining order or something.

He just needed to relax, keep calm for his exams and-

“Hey, my little Welly-boob~”

He doesn’t quite scream but he’s not exactly quiet either, burning in embarrassment as all eyes turned to look at him and its only as everyone turns and stop looking at him, muttering under their breaths, does he wonder if they can see James or not. Satan is crouching on his work desk after all.

Oh lord, what if James was just a figment of his imagination brought on by stress?

Shaking his head, he turns back to his assignment, hoping he has imagined James and that the other isn’t sat there, bending his paper clips out of shape, intent on at least getting half the assignment done only to groan as James flicks one of the paper clips at him.

“What?!” Wellesley hisses lowly, glaring at James who just beams like kid at Christmas at him. Well, that wasn’t making the Kiwi feel worse about the whole crucifix at all. Satan wasn’t supposed to be this…cute? Adorable? Moronic? Yes, moronic. James was a moron.

“I just wanted to see you, you’ve been hard to find. It’s taken me ages, it’s like you’ve been hiding from me.”

Oh no, the cross felt heavier now, Wellesley swallowing thickly as James went on.

“You’re not mad at me for the date are you?”

He opens his mouth to reply only to be cut off from answering as someone tapped his shoulder, mouth quickly shutting as he turned in his seat, silently thanking the Dane for tapping him on the shoulder. Maybe there is a God after all.

“Y-Yeah, Preben, can I help you?”

“Would I be able to borrow your printer card? I left mine back in my apartment and I have to print my assignment for tomorrow.” Preben asks, looking surprisingly demure for once, much to Wellesley’s surprise, before being offered the card, Wellesley getting up and heading towards the printer with the taller Dane, trying to ignore James because Preben hadn’t seen him either.

Maybe it was just the stress that was making him see things.

—

He doesn’t like this blonde man. This blonde man Wellesley is currently talking to, who is making his queen laugh at the tiny printing press and he can feel his blood begin to boil when the man makes him flustered. No, that was his job not some mans, not some mortals.

That’s when he smells burning, looking down and paling as the desk was on fire. James attempts to put it out, only succeeding in making the fire spread.

“…Shit.”

—

It’s raining.

Why is it always raining when there’s a fire alarm?

Glaring from under the hood of a jacket made for a man three times his height and size, Wellesley stands with his arms folded across his chest, grumbling under his breath about his now burnt wallet, bag, laptop and assignment as the fire alarm continued to blare across the campus grounds.

He doesn’t notice the arrival of James at first, looking up as the rain suddenly stops before then to the side, glare returning as he spots a sheepish looking James. “I got your laptop, wallet and bag. I lost some of the papers as they kinda set on fire but I saved what I could.”

Wellesley would actually kiss him if it wasn’t for the fact he was so angry with him about this. Why did he set the library on fire? What purpose did he have doing as much? Was this some new and stupid ploy to get him to be his queen again? Any hope he had of that was slowly depleting into nothing now.

“Thank you.” He hissed, snatching them off of him, shoving everything in the bag and not lessoning the glare, even when his chest started hurting from the look on James’s face. Though, frankly, Wellesley could be having a heart attack. It wouldn’t surprise him if he was. “No please, just…leave me alone. For a week or something, just leave me alone.”

He starts to walk off, seizing up a little as the cold rain starts hitting him once more, pausing as he hears him say it.

“I’m sorry…”

Fuck it.

He intended to kiss his cheek at first but lips found lips regardless, hands pulling the other down by the front of his jacket, as even on tip toes the other was too tall, pulling back after a while and just standing there, barely any space between them, breathing a little heavily, Wellesley biting his lip to refrain from laughing at the goofiest looking smile Satan is pulling.

“Thank you for apologising, I’ll see you in a week.”

James is too giddy about the fact he didn’t have to initiate the kiss to realise the warm tingly feeling where Wellesley had kissed him was actually burning him.

—-

“So, was that guy your boyfriend?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, Wellesley coughing and spluttering for a moment or two and giving the Dane sat opposite him the most incredulous look he can before focusing back on his food and hoping the others they had come with would return from the bathroom soon. Of all the questions to ask why did it have to be that one?!

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you dating someone and keeping it from the group?” The temptation to squash the paper cup of sauce on his forehead is there, Wellesley isn’t going to lie to himself about that. “I mean it’s safer me asking then Mei, you know she’ll hound you for details about him until you’re on the floor crying. I’m the lesser of two evils.”

He doesn’t like the fact Preben has a point there.

Sighing heavily, Wellesley nods somewhat reluctantly, wondering how to phrase this without it going pear shaped. “You know how I got run over last year, just before Christmas?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say we were dating, it’s…complicated but uh…” He’s already started he may as well finish it off now, being Mei came back at least. “That was the guy who ran me over…” Wellesley mumbles it more than saying it but from the reaction on the Dane’s face he heard him.

“You’re dating the, and I quote, ‘nut job who thinks he’s Satan and drives a fuck ugly Porsche’”

“It’s complicated, extremely complicated. How many times do I need to stress that it’s…”

“Complicated? What’s complicated?”

Wellesley doesn’t think he’s swallowed so audibly before as the Taiwanese student slides in beside Preben, gleam in her eye that only spells doom via evasive questions for the Kiwi. He wasn’t getting out of this with a secret intact, he could tell already.


	5. A First For Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A renuion and here we find out a little bit about James' life before he died as the story gets back on track ovob

James listens when he tells him to leave him alone, in a fashion at least, Wellesley now overwhelmed with a range of flowers now jammed in three vases that he’d had to buy for them, the amount of pollen in his flat now at a level that would trigger anyone’s hay fever.

He was at least listening to what he’d said all those months ago when he’d run him over, Wellesley waking a little confused as he smells cooking food, stumbling out of his bedroom and into the kitchen and pausing as he sees the other in there. Was the week over? It hadn’t felt that long.

It had seemed almost longer.

“James, it’s a reasonable time. What are you doing here?” He sleepily mumbles, heading for the kettle only to discover a cup of tea already made and waiting for him, still hot but cool enough to drink and, upon being shooed out of the kitchen area of the room with a shout of breakfast, he finds himself curled up on the sofa nursing the mug of tea as it slowly woke the student up.

Weird dreams, he’d been having a lot of them recently. He’s falling, always falling, screaming until his throat is bloody as teeth rip into his flesh and fingers tearing away at his humanity until all that remains is another screaming and hungry husk like the creatures in his dreams. It’s always the same, even down to the words he can hear in the background. ‘You trust me, don’t you…?’

“…Wellesley? You listening to me there, my queen?” He snaps out of his thoughts, giving James a startled look before calming down and accepting the food from him, not moving for a few seconds before giving him an odd look. My Queen? When had he agreed to become his queen? As far as he knew they were still on their way to achieving that target.

“I’ve not agreed to be your queen yet, so don’t call me your queen.”

“I’m only ever going to have one queen and that queen is you.”

As his face begins to burn he finds himself glaring at the food and his tea, trying to focus on something other than the biblical creature beside him. Why was he so flustered about this? He’d only said what he’d said a thousand times before, albeit in a different fashion.

He more or less shovels the food down, the hot food burning his mouth and throat as he chewed and swallowed it, anything to distract him from the way the other was looking at him and how embarrassed he felt. This was ridiculous; he wasn’t falling for Satan, was he? The guy was as far from prince charming as one could get and yet he was nowhere near as idiotic as he had been.

In fact, Wellesley supposes he could say that James was half the moron he used to be. He was certainly more human and less king of hell.

“So, will you busy tonight?”

“I handed that paper in last week and I have no current assignments, why do you ask?”

“We’re going on another date.”

“Another thing at a reasonable time, wow James I’m impressed.” He drawls, laughing a little at how proud James looks because he thinks he’s impressed him. Satan wasn’t supposed to be this endearing; Satan was supposed to be a dickhead. Then again, he supposes James more or less was one to begin with.

“Damn straight you are! Now, I have to go run Hell, you stay pretty and I’ll be back to pick you up at midnight.”

With that he’s gone, leaving behind a confused Wellesley, the kiwi frowning with bemusement at the blank television screen as he thought over what James had just told him.

“But nowhere is open at midnight…”

—

He comes at midnight like he states, Wellesley just finishing up his coffee as the Australian knocks at his flat door and, if he’s honest with himself, he’s flattered that the other was doing as he’d requested, even if it was much later than when he’d originally asked.

Wellesley wonders where he’s going to take him this time, locking the door behind him as he steps out into the hallway, mildly confused when James tells him he doesn’t need a coat but thinks nothing of it. He took him to Melbourne on their last date, lord only know where he’d take them this time.

Maybe China, breakfast in Beijing or a walk along the great wall or perhaps America, gambling in Las Vegas or dinner in Chicago? He could be taken anywhere, frankly, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit excited about where they were heading, the pull at the pit in his stomach and James moved them, the drop as they landed.

There’s a snap of fingers as the room starts to light up around them, at least in the section they were in, Wellesley frowning in confusion at the tanks full of fish, looking around in confusion before looking up at the wall and catching the name of where he was.

He could have brought him anywhere in the world and he’d brought him to Hull.

“You brought me to Hull? Of all the places you could have taken me.”

“Your file said you liked aquariums, so I brought you to one.”

Wellesley gives him a pointed look before rolling his eyes, about to argue back only to jump as music started playing something old, something vaguely Frank Sinatra, his thoughts on who was singing vanishing as James put one hand on his waist, the other supporting his own and he panics as he realises what James is going to do.

“James, I can’t dance. I really can’t dance!”

“I know, but I still want to try.”

And he does, flustered apologies spewing from Wellesley lips every time he steps on or falls over James’s feet, the King of Hell merely laughing it off and grinning as he’d continue dancing with the other, Wellesley finding the laughter contagious and joining in, exhibits of sea creatures lighting up as they dance past and near them as they made their way through and around the Deep more occupied with each other than the animals.

—

They’ve been there for an hour when Wellesley finally asks, spotting James by the tank with jellyfish and calling from where he was, knowing them to be the only ones here bar the animals so it didn’t seem too much of a breach of privacy. “James, will you tell me about yourself?”

He doesn’t notice James pause and give him a weird look, Wellesley more focused on the ramp leading down to the larger tanks of sharks and rays and James just follows him, still bemused by the question. “There’s not much to know really…” the Australian replies, scratching the back of his neck, trying to think of something to tell him and failing to.

“There has to be, I find it unfair you know so much about me but I know nothing about you.” He span on the ball of his foot to face the other then, smiling at him. “Like, what was human James like?” Wellesley fears he’s touched a nerve as James tenses up for a moment before smiling so casually he’s reminded just who James is and what he is capable of doing.

“My name is James Christopher Cook; I was born in Sydney in 1925. I had…have a little sister called Matilda who was born in 1930 who still lives there with her Husband who I have never liked, frankly. Not too fond of Italian’s, if I’m perfectly honest with you.”

He’s back to normal now, he’s being human again, looking more and more like a man and less and less like a demon once again.

“I joined the army when World War 2 started and died on the pacific front aged 18 due to a bullet to the back of the head.”

He’s not sure what to say to that, Wellesley nibbling his bottom lip before saying the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry…” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck a little awkwardly. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, maybe he should have just kept quiet. If James wanted to tell him, he could have just told him.

“You wanna touch it?”

“What?! Fuck no!”

“Come on, sometimes it’s a little juicy~”

“JAMES, FUCK OFF.”

It’s to lighten the mood back up again, Wellesley knows this, ducking as the other attempted to catch him, the Kiwi avoiding the Australian and his bullet wound like the plague, laughing all the while as he was slowly and steadily backed into a wall littered with animal facts.

He doesn’t tell him to touch it, like the human was expecting, he doesn’t even bring his hand up to touch it, James merely kisses him instead. There’s no crucifix to burn his lips this time, Wellesley having removed it and shoved it in a draw the day after James had burnt the Library down, the only heat coming from the kiss as it grew deeper and the hands under the kiwis shirt, gripping his hips.

There’s a pull at his middle as they change location, the hard wall being replaced by sheets and a pressure on him that was almost suffocating, James noticing something amiss almost immediately before muttering his apology, Wellesley spluttering as the pressure leaves and they crash onto his own bed, the familiar glow of the orange street light illuminating the room as James mumbles something about the wrong bedroom before the kissing resumes.

He’s gentle with him, treating him almost like a doll as clothes are slowly removed, things slowly intensifying as his mouth and actions slowly left him lost for words, nothing short of lewd noises and words tumbling from Wellesley’s lips between short pants and kisses as James entered and started to move in him.

James isn’t too hasty nor is he too rough, slowly building up his speed, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks on the others collar bones and neck to match the scratches and nail marks his would be queen was leaving on him as they slowly build up to a release, James removing himself from the other as he finishes to take care the last of his. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, Wellesley groaning as his hand slams the alarm clock off and groaning at the pain in his lower back before pausing at the sleeping, naked body on the floor. He’d fucked James; he’d had sex with the devil.

He had his first time with fucking Satan.


End file.
